Those Eyes
by Delia20
Summary: <html><head></head>Sigrid Padgitt was a normal girl, well that was until she got run over by a car and magically woke up as the famous Boy-Who-Lived sister, in Harry Potter world. Now she is taking on the challenge of her life... protecting her brother and the citizens of the Wizarding World against the most feared and evil dark wizard they had ever faced. How could she ever prevail?</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

Smothering a giggle by hiding her face in an arm of a fellow pupil - Charlie she believed - Siri grinned; how funny! A group of boys were rough housing outside of her geography classroom, knocking over classmates in the struggle who were egging on the fight. It was hilarious to watch. Well, it was until their lanky geography teacher with her nasally voice shouted at them to stop acting like buffoons and to get in their places. Yes, other than that hilarious indeed.

Heading off to her seat Siri smiled. The only reason she liked geography was because she sat next to her only friend; Morgan Abney. She was pretty, there was no denying that, big brown eyes, honey brown hair and tanned skin that she would die for.

"Sigrid Padgitt!"

Siri pursed her lips at her name. It was ridiculous name, what had her mother been thinking? Was she on drugs or something? She probably was considering her reckless behaviour, she felt sorry for her father; her mother was always going off risking her life. Every night she had to fear for her mother, hoping and praying that she would come back alive and not in a body bag doing something utterly ridiculous that her mother no doubt thought was a good idea.

"Yes miss?" she asked innocently, or hoped she did. Mrs Offord just scowled at her and screeched at her to go to her seat. Sighing she journeyed her way into the mazed monstrosity of tables and chairs, awkwardly bumping into people and apologising frequently. Sighing once again, she finally got to her place, blushing how she made herself look like a bumbling fool, she looked to her side and saw Morgan walking towards her. She grinned at her, but Morgan ignored her and walked right past her to one of her many 'besties!' (As she would have put), it two tables behind her. Frowning she got her book, journal and pencil case obediently and looked expectantly at Mrs Offord, her teacher droned on drowning any noise that was going on, but she didn't miss the exchange Morgan and her friend. "Why aren't you sitting next to Siri?" Nicole asked. Morgan made a scoff "Why would I sit next to her? The only reason I put up with her is that so I can copy the answers cos she's like really smart, ya know?" Nicole made an 'ohh' noise "I was gonna ask why, she is sooo annoying all she ever does is read, seriously" - but she didn't hear the rest, she looked down at her feet, her throat closed up and her eyes burned. Was she really boring? Could no one put up with her? Reading, to her, was an escape from the world where she could battle dragons, throw the one ring into the depths of Mount Doom, fly in the sky like the birds; how could that be boring? Siri couldn't wrap her mind around it; it was beyond her understanding. She felt humiliated, betrayed and isolated.

After the geography lesson Charlie rushed out the classroom into fray of school children all focused on getting out of the hell they had been in for six hours. He couldn't blame them; he was set out to get outside the school gates, but not for the same reason. He trying to catch up to Siri or Sigrid (but she hated that name and insisted that everyone call her Siri), she had a thing being early, always first at the next lesson. People thought it was infuriating and tried to best her being first to lesson but they always failed. But he found it cute that she was always first even after five years.

Jumping down the never ending stairs two at once, he saw the light brown hair of Siri bobbing up and down walking out the gates. He let out a sigh of relief he hadn't missed her, he wanted to try to walk with her to her house and hoped she would realise how he felt. He was a bit frustrated that she was oblivious to him.

"Hey Siri how you doin'?" she glanced up and smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat.

"I'm okay - you?" he grinned down at her, she was smaller than all the girls in her year, she was still mistaken for a year 9 or 8, she always got huffy when that happened but he found it endearing.

"Yeah I'm fine…so…will you be so kind and help me do my geography homework? I don't get it at all!" that was a lie; he was the best in the class in geography. Instead of accepting the offer she sent him an amused glance, she must have noticed.

"As much as I would love too, I have to visit my sick aunt when I get home. Sorry." he pouted; whenever he invited her to stay with him to do homework she always had a perfect excuse to turn him down.

Turning a corner to cross the road he turned round his back to the road, looking in her royal blue eyes. "Aw, every time I ask you to do a study group you crush my dreams of a perfect scores and I-" But before he could finish, he was pushed to the ground, his head slamming on the concrete with a smack… he could already feel the blood dripping down his neck.

Dazed he looked up only to see Siri with her eyes wide and her arms outstretched towards him, he smiled goofily at her was she trying to hug him? Then why did she push him over? She was silly. But before he could carry on his thoughts about how silly she was, Siri was hit by something black, a car. She soared through the air and hit the road with a sickening thud.

She couldn't think. All she knew was pain, a lot of pain. She was vaguely aware that her face was wet. Tears her brain supplied, you did that when you were either in pain, were happy or sad. She wasn't normally one to cry, it was weird; she wanted to go home! But where was home? She barely remembered something about home, it was all fuzzy, she couldn't grasp the memory no matter how hard she tried to hold on desperately. Home was all yellowy and cosy with mismatched pillows and woolly blankets that begged you silently to cuddle up in, in front if the fireplace the sounds of crackling and popping of the fire.

She liked home, it was safe, full of hugs and love. It was nice, well what she remembered of it. Pulling herself out of the memory of her home she focused what was around her she could hear the roaring of an engine, a car? She didn't like cars she didn't know why but she was scared, cars were bad, she had to get away! But all she could do was weakly lift a limb of some sort and wail, oh no! She couldn't cry she had to get away, tears don't get you anywhere. A few minutes later she heard the engine stop, good! She could get away now. But she felt the weightless feeling of being carried but she couldn't feel any hands all she could feel was blankets and something warm and squishy next to her.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Professor McGonagall." Said a deep voice.

"Ah, Hagrid. No trouble, I assume?" this voice was old grandfatherly, she didn't like it, she remembered an old man who looked nice, but was mean to a boy, manipulated him, but she couldn't remember the rest of the story.

"No, sir. Little tykes fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Try not to wake them." The deep voice talked once again.

"Do you think it's safe, leaving them with these people? I've watched them all day, they're the worst sort of... Muggles imaginable. They really are—" it was a female voice, it was a bit stern sounding but she liked it, the voice was like her grandmother.

"They are the only family they have."

"These children will be famous. There won't be a child in our world that doesn't know their names."

"Exactly. There better off growing up away from all that... until he is ready." She heard a sniffle.

"There, there, Hagrid. It's not really goodbye, after all." He placed her on the ground.

"Good luck... Harry and Sigrid Potter."


	2. Those Eyes Chapter two

Chapter 1:

Sigrid Lillian potter thought she was a very obedient child. She always did what she was told, no matter it being to dust the living room, tend the flowers, put up with Dudley's whining even wear the horrible frocks that her Aunt Petunia Persisted her to wear. She thought that she was the perfect child, the child every parent wished to have instead of the whiny spoilt brat they ended up with. But underneath her perfect façade was a child who craved love from her Aunt; the only mother figure she had in her life, who would never give what she wanted, it hurt her. Why didn't her Aunt love her? She tried to be the best even better than Dudley! (To be honest it wasn't that hard to be.) All she wanted was a mother and father, why would the world take the only thing she wanted in her miserable life? When she was at the park with her brother, she saw families laughing, smiling why didn't Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon do that with her? What did she ever do to have them hate her?

One day when they were at the park she saw a little boy who was on the monkey bars, she knew he wouldn't make it but she didn't know why she didn't warn him, she just watched. Sooner or later he did fall grazing his hands and knees, she saw the unshed tears that were about to drip from his soft pink cheeks, but then his mother joined him blowing his hands and kissed them. She helped him up and asked if it was better and he nodded, but he wasn't she could tell he got up and waddled away he was still in pain, but why did he say it was better if it was not? How could that make anything better? If she got hurt Uncle Vernon would shout at her to get up and not be a baby. From that day on she watched all the families in the park watched how they reacted, communicated, but she still couldn't figure out why the parents helped the children, didn't they waste money? That's what her Aunt and Uncle said, her and Harry didn't do anything to help around wasting their money on them while it could be spent it on Dudley, he deserved it, he was their son. Siri and Harry were just cousins, the ones who didn't have anywhere to go, the ones who mooched off their Aunts family and money they didn't deserve anything.

"Sigrid!" her head snapped up to see her aunt's horse-like face hovering above hers.

"Yes Aunt Petunia?" she asked, what was it now? She did all of her chores. What did she have to do?

"Go get dressed! I left a frock on your bed, stop looking like that at me girl! Get dressed, go on, shoo!" Siri sprinted towards her cupboard, groaning whatever disgusting dress her Aunt had set out, they probably had visitors coming round, but why would anyone want to come to their house? It mystified Siri.

Nudged awake by her brother Siri yawned, "What day is it Hazzy?" she asked (that was her nickname for Harry it was only hers no one else could call him that).

"23 June." she groaned; it was Dudley's birthday, every year Siri dreaded that day, Dudley would rub it in that he had toys to play with while they got nothing. She and Harry knew that they would never get presents; it was just how it worked. Harry looked at her with understanding "Come on, let's go"

Dragging herself out of her cupboard she walked to the stove, making the family's breakfast. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry and Siri, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise - unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favourite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast.

"Comb your hair!" Uncle Vernon barked, by way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry and Siri needed a haircut. They must have had more haircuts than the rest of the kids in their class put together, but it made no difference, their hair simply grew that way - all over the place. Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig that made Siri snigger to behind her hands. Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. They both, could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, they began wolfing down their bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right? "Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work.

Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty . . . thirty . . ."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia. "Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then." Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Siri and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in Harry and Siri's direction. Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Siri's heart gave a leap.

Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and Siri were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. They hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at them as though they planned the whole thing. Harry and Siri knew they ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when they reminded themselves it would be a whole year before they had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them."

The Dursleys often spoke about them like this, as though they were not

There - or rather, as though they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia."You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully (they would be able to watch what they wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"We won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, ". . . and leave them both in the car. . . ."

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone. . . ." Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried - but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him. "I . . . don't . . . want . . . them . . . t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" He shot Harry and Siri a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Half an hour later, Harry and Siri, who couldn't believe their luck, were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in their lives. Their aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken them both aside.

"I'm warning you," He had said, putting his large purple face right up close to twins,

"I'm warning you now, any funny business, anything at all - and you'll both be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"Were not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly . . ."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did. The problem was, strange things often happened around the twins and it was just no good telling the Dursleys that they didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off, Siri was ecstatic Harry was an alien! There alien family could take them to mars or something! He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force Siri into a revolting old dress that she bought (pink with aluminous orange love hearts). The harder she tried to pull it over her head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Siri. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, she wasn't punished.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his and Siri's cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, the twins, the council, the twins, the bank, and the twins were just a few of his favourite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

". . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying." Siri gasped "I love mo-to-ci-culs! And flying! And also unicorns and-" Siri was going to go on about what she loved but was cut off, Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a moustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream." But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon - they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas, Siri looked at him with pity, he smiled back weakly.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Siri what they wanted before they could hurry them away, they bought them both a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, looking at his sister who was devouring her lemon ice pop, seeing that she wasn't going to choke on it, he looked at the gorilla.

Harry and Siri had the best morning they'd had in a long time. Harry was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys, Siri seeing this she followed suit. Harry did this because Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his Knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and the twins were allowed to finish the first.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last. After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can - but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. "Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge. "Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake unaware of his sisters scrutiny focused on him. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least the twins got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's. It winked.

Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching still unaware of his sister paying even more attention to him. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: "I get that all the time."

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying." The snake nodded vigorously. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?" The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could, pushing the squealing Siri out of the way. "Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come. . . . Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. Siri leaned towards him and whispered "Were you talking to the snake Hazzy?" he slowly nodded his head, his sister pouted "Why couldn't I talk to him? Am I not an alien like you Hazzy?" Harry was shocked; she couldn't talk to the snake? "Couldn't you talk to him? And I- wait an alien?" he looked at her weird she blushed and opened her mouth to explain but she was cut off by Piers (she was cut off a lot she thought.) "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Silence.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go - cupboard - stay - no meals," before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy. Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had food; he was so hungry normally either him or Siri would sneak him food if they were sent to the cupboard.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years with his younger sister, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car with Siri when his parents had died, (though it did explain Siri's irrational fear of cars). Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him and his sister. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry and Siri furiously if they knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at them once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his and Siri's hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look.

At school, Harry had no one, yes he did have Siri but she had a small group of friends, but they never wanted him to play with them. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad school was over, but Siri wasn't; she couldn't go over to her friend's houses all summer, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang for Harry, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. They always tormented Harry but left Siri alone, (but he thought it was due to the crush that Gordon had on her) the rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favourite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, hearing his sister trying to be inconspicuous, following him possibly trying to be a spy (she loved to play that game with her friends), where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came they would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. The twins, on the other hand were going to Stonewall High, the local public school.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving the twins at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let them watch television and gave them a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life, Siri couldn't figure out why though.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh while Siri looked at Dudley like he proclaimed he was going to marry a giraffe and have thousands of pelican babies.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Siri and Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" Siri asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if they dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Siri looked in the bowl.

"Oh," Siri said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray for you two. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. They sat down at the table and tried not to think about how they were going to look on their first day at Stonewall High - like they was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Siri get it."

"Get the mail, Sigrid."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Siri dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and – two letters for her and Harry. She picked it up and stared at it, No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had two friends who were not the best, no other relatives except Harry but he didn't need to write. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Miss. S. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp, it was the same for Harry.

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, she saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Siri went back to the kitchen, still staring at her letter, absentmindedly passing Harry's to him. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. -."

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry and Siri have got something!"

Siri was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Uncle Vernon, also snatching Harry's.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" Sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the greyish white of old porridge. "P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letters to read them, but Uncle Vernon held them high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. "Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Siri and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick. "I want to read the letters" he said loudly "Want to read it?!" said Harry furiously," there our letters!"

"Get out, all of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. Harry didn't move, while Siri tugged on his sleeve backing away she knew this would be bad.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted. "Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor, both of them too caught up in the conversation happening they didn't see Siri looking disappointedly at them.

Siri tried to get their attention, but failed. She gave up and sat down on the floor in the living room, thinking why they took her letter off her. Was she that bad she didn't deserve a social life? That, to her, was crossing the line.

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited the twins in their cupboard. "Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?" Siri looked uneasily at Harry; the number one rule was not to ask questions.

"No one. It was addressed to you two by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had our cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful. "Er - yes, Harry, Sigrid - about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you two are really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you both moved into Dudley's second bedroom. "Why?" said Harry. She chewed her lip he was toeing the line. "Don't ask questions!" snapped their uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took them one trip upstairs to move everything they owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him, noticing his sister curled up next to him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbour's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favourite program had been cancelled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother "I don't want them in there... I need that room... make them get out..."

Harry sighed and stroked Siri's fiery red hair. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter more quickly. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to the twins, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another two! 'Mr and Miss. H and S. Potter, the Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him, Siri patiently eating her breakfast. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry and Siri's letters clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley - go - just go."

Siri sighed; Harry was going to get killed with that attitude, breaking rules! Of all things! She knew she would be dragging him out of trouble in the future.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently hoping Siri was still asleep he _definitely _did not want to wake her up she probably scratch his face off if he did, Harry wished he was joking about that. He creeped downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door - Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat - something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see six letters addressed in green ink.

"I want -" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

On Friday, no less than twenty-four letters arrived for the twins. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises, Siri shooting him amused glances one in a while.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Forty-eight letters for them, found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement. Siri's eyes lit up "The aliens have come to save us Harry!" Dudley from then on avoided Siri.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one, while Siri sneakily snatched on of the floor, but it was slapped out of her hands by Petunia. "Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry and Siri around the waist and threw them into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake 'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and the twins shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored and Siri sprawled on the bed but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering...

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter and Miss. S. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk. "She held up the two letters so they could read the green ink address Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared. "I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a ploughed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. " Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television - then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry and Siri's eleventh birthday. Of course, their birthdays were never exactly fun - last year, the Dursleys had given them a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!" Siri looked out the car window the most miserable small shack was there. "Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up. "Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Siri privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few mouldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket, but, at least he had Siri sprawled on top of him, she was like a human water bottle.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and cuddled up to his sister, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry that he and Siri would be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go, he held his breath, nudging Siri she made a snort noise and looked at him with half lidded eyes "yuhugh?" he let out a breath thank _goodness _ she didn't scratch him up, he would very much like his face intact. From the incoherent words that tumbled out of her mouth Harry guessed that she said what time was and showed her Dudley's watch. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that they'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine - maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright while Siri gave a yelp, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry and Sigrid!" said the giant. Siri pursed her lips "Its Siri, not Sigrid." She could she her brother looking at her in disbelief, she never, ever spoke out of line especially to an adult. "O' righ' then, Siri." he asked unsure, Siri smiled and nodded once. Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you two, you were only a babies," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mum's eyes, but yeh look like ya mum bu' with blue eyes, don' know where tha' came from." Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway – Harry, Siri" said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh both. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers his sister's breath on the back of his neck. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry and Sigrid written on it in green icing, Siri made a displeased noise at her name, it was _such_ an ugly name why couldn't it be slasher or something cool like that?

They looked up at the giant. Harry meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?" The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry and Siri's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind." His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley." The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry." He passed the sausages to the twins, who were both so hungry they had never tasted anything so wonderful, but they still couldn't take their eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er - no," said Harry. Hagrid looked shocked. "Sorry," Siri said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry "ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these children - this boy! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad he knew that Siri were perfect. "I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?" Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry and Siri, Siri seeing the crazy look in his eyes hid behind her older brother.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My – my- our mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the freaksanything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left it fer them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept what from us?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yet heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry, Siri- yer a wizard." There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"Wouldn't 'witch' be the proper term for me?"

"- a what?" gasped Harry, completely ignoring Siri's correction.

"A wizard and a witch, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've both been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon its abou' time yeh read yer letters."

Siri quickly snatched her letter out of his massive hands and read it:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Siri looked over too Harry's letter, completely the same. After a few minutes Harry stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry and Sigrid their letters,

Taking them to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly, Siri was intrigued was that his owl? Could she have magical motorcycle-unicorn that flew? She snorted of course not, they would use fairies.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They're not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Siri asked, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-magic folk like then. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on." Cool! Siri thought to herself she was better than them!

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon,

"Swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizards indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a - a wizard?" Siri grumbled she was a witch! Could no one get it right?

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd both be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white, Siri face fell. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Sigrid Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!" Hagrid thundered "But why? What happened?" Siri asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious. "I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, Siri I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someone's gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, its best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but its incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"

"Who?" Siri asked she was curious, who was this person? They had to be as cool as her for everyone to know their name.

"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles you two, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right - Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days. Didn't know who ter trust didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You were both just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you Harry. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnon's, the Bones, the Prewett's - an' you were only a baby, an' you lived."

Siri felt a pang of jealously, why did Harry get everything? He could do magic yes, so could she, but he always did it by accident and his was always a spontaneous result. Hagrid was right Harry was a hero everyone knew his name, not Sigrid the little sister. But why did Voldemort want to kill Harry but not her? Was she not special? As Hagrid's story came to a close, Harry saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before - and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. The twins jumped; they had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, freaks," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types - just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you - one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry - I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful - why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who were on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on - I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard." To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it... every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry... chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach... dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard - you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts." But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they are not going?" he hissed. "They are going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"

"If they wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's children goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names have been down ever since he was born. There off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley - there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Siri saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers. She slapped her hands over her mouth to stop laughing

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn't a lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at the twins under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er - not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Siri.

"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town; get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. "It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me and Siri we were going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard with Siri cuddled up to me."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him, detangling himself from Siri. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, careful not to wake Siri, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that!" Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl!"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"Chancellor Pete, you are here by sentenced to death for your crime… licking other's doorknobs without permission!" Harry decided to ignore Siri, she always had to reappearing dreams, one about 'Chancellor Pete' and another she always screamed in her sleep, she refused to say what it was she was dreaming about.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets - bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be Off, Harry, wake up yer sister, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Um - Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"Me and Siri haven't got any money - and you heard Uncle Vernon last night ... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed -"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold - an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah - so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see.

Harry and Siri followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat. "Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah - but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying while Siri was looking for mermaids, if there was wizards there had to be mermaids!

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Siri so she could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry, Sigrid?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket (he didn't trust Siri she was ever losing things, even though she was good at finding random things aswell).

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read with Siri looking over his shoulder:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM:

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT:

Wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

Glass or crystal phials

Telescope set

Brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud. "Meh, probably not." Siri said.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Siri had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Siri hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humour, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told her so far was unbelievable, Siri couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

"Really? It looks terrible, it needs a bath. ASAP." Hagrid just ignored Siri's comment.

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he, Siri and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered them inside.

A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Siri Harry's shoulders and making, Harry's knees buckle. "Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry , "is this - can this be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honour." Siri frowned, she was right there was he blind or something?

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. Siri was pushed back the crowd what? What just happened? I thought that Hagrid I was famous aswell? Was this going to happen every time? Will he leave me and have a massive ego? For the first time in her life she resented Harry, he was going to leave her forever.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Daedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Daedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Daedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. Siri frowned he looked like a wimp, no, scrap that he _was_ a wimp.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry and Siri.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Yeah, only Harry though." Siri mumbled bitterly, to quiet to hear.

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, you two."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at the twin's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder to see if Siri was there and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry and Siri's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments that the twins had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and the twins made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry and Miss Sigrid Potter's safe."

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. "Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and the twins followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible with Siri whooping in delight. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Siri gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry and Siri's - it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry and Siri pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?" Siri pouted "couldn't we go faster?" Harry looked at her wide-eyed "No." Siri didn't pout, at all.

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Siri longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep meh mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money for him and Siri. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life - more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, you two, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and Siri entered Madam Malkin's. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, clear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact. Now you my dear stay here." She told Siri who was led away by another woman.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there with Siri, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied, ignoring the concerned look that Siri gave him. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know - not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"-and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were - he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?" Siri giggling it was a funny name.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" Hufflepuff? Siri thought incredulously, that is a ridiculous name.

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but -"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one." That wasn't right, that was saying that everyone who has blonde hair is evil and wants to rake all of the marsh mellows in the world to themselves, she only knew this because her other told her so.

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought the twins school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley." Siri giggled "Good one."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Siri buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for them, Siri herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked their list again.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh two a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red, while Siri squealed at the thought of a present for her.

"You don't have to -"

"Yes, he does Harry!" Harry just glared at his sister.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'." Mail? Siri grinned.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing while Siri chose the most outrageous ugly owl she could find, she called him Mr. Chair. Harry couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Harry and Siri had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library while Siri looked around in amazement this was so cool! He swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Miss. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed, sir." said Siri.

"Hmm, hold it out." He measured her from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head.

Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss. Potter. Try this one. Cherrywood and phoenix tail feather. Eight inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Siri took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Yew and unicorn hair. Thirteen inches. Quite sturdy. Try -"

Siri once again waved the wand but it did nothing and was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander before she could wave it.

"No, no -here, ash and Augurey tail feather, nine and a half inches, rigid. Go on."

Siri waved her wand, it was weird it felt soothing like a summer breeze, she sighed she liked this one. "Yes, yes, that will do perfect for you." She looked up in his pale eyes; he was looking at her strange, disapprovingly. But why?

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander looking to Harry, "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see."

"Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Harry. "Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry, just like he did for Siri.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?" Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand and eight for Siri's, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as the twins and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road even Siri was silent which was a surprise.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought the twins a hamburger each and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

Hagrid helped Harry and Siri on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts" he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh two soon."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

"Hazzy?" he turned.

"Yes?"

She looked down at her hands "Do you remember y'know… Mum and Dad?"

He looked at his younger sister what should he say? That, yes, he could faintly remember them, while she couldn't remember a thing? It would destroy her that she couldn't remember. "No, I don't, but I know they were great people."

"Oh."


End file.
